


Unspoken

by Sanalith



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-13
Updated: 2012-12-13
Packaged: 2017-11-21 01:16:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanalith/pseuds/Sanalith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione can't bear to allow Severus to die on the floor of the Shrieking Shack. When her life debt comes due, she asks him to answer one simple question. For the prompt: "Honesty/Is what you need/It sets you free/Like someone to save you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unspoken

_“Honesty_   
_Is what you need_   
_It sets you free_   
_Like someone to save you”_

 

Harry waited hardly a moment after Voldemort swept out of the Shrieking Shack to force his way inside. Hermione followed at his heels, her stomach clenching and unclenching painfully at the sight before her. There was so much blood, the pool growing by the moment, but there was nothing in the world that could make her look away.

She’d never been able to fully admit her feelings, even to herself, and certainly not to her friends. She’d spent so many nights in her dorm room, repeating all the reasons why any relationship between them was doomed to fail. Everything from the simple – he was her professor and old enough to be her father – to the complex – that Harry hated him as much as he could hate anyone, and not just for killing Albus Dumbledore. Even _liking_ the man seemed like a betrayal of her best friend. Could a Slytherin and a Gryffindor even manage to shake hands without battling?

It was wrong on so very, very many levels.

But the heart could not always follow where the mind led, and truth could never be inored.

She was in love with Severus Snape, and he was going to bleed to death on the floor of the Shrieking Shack without ever knowing. Unless she did something.

Hermione pushed past Harry and knelt by his side, running her fingers across his neck and immediately finding the twin fang punctures. She breathed a silent prayer of thanks that Voldemort hadn’t decided to simply Avada Kedavra him, as he’d done so often. A snake bite wasn’t much better, especially considering how much blood he’d lost so quickly, but at she had a fighting chance.

“You’re going to try to save him.” Harry’s voice was flat.

Hermione nodded without looking up, beginning to tear away his shirt so she could get at the neck wound easier. “He doesn’t deserve to die. Not like this.”

“He killed Dumbledore.”

Her fingers faltered briefly, but then she grasped her wand and began mumbling diagnostic spells.

“You really want to save a murderer?”

Hermione’s eyes flashed and she shoot her friend a glare. “I want to save the man who knows all of You-Know-Who’s plans, who can help us win this war without any more deaths. And yes, I want to save the man who killed Alnus Dumblefore, because he’s the only one left who can tell us exactly what happened that night.”

“I was there!” Harry snapped. “I know what I saw! He killed Dumbledore in cold blood!”

“If that’s the case,” she replied steadily, ripping her cloak to create makeshift bandages, “then he should be tried before the Ministry and punished accordingly.” Her hands clenched into fists. “But I won’t let him just die, Harry. I won’t.”

_~I can’t lose him…not like this…not without him knowing…~_

So lost in her thoughts and in her hasty treatments, Hermione nearly screamed when a bloody hand closed weakly around hers, trying and failing to push her away.

“No…need…for this,” Snape rasped, his eyes opening to mere slits. “Go. Now. While…you can.”

Hermione gently but firmly lifted his hand and placed it back at his side, wincing as he shuddered in pain. “You just lay there quietly, Professor, and let me handle this.” She was proud that her voice shook only the smallest bit. “Everything is going to be just fine. I’m going to stabilize you and then we can sneak you back into Hogwarts and get a nice blood replenishing potion, and you’ll be as good as new.”

“Bloody...stubborn…Gryffindor.”

“That’s me,” she agreed, with forced cheerfulness. “So glad you’re conscious enough to realize it.”

“You have…more important things…to be doing.” He managed to jerk his chin in Harry’s direction. “Him…especially.”

“My sentiments exactly,” Harry muttered.

He was about to say more when Voldemort’s voice cut them off, echoing across the walls. Hermione’s head jerked up automatically and swept across the room, looking for her enemy, before she realized he’d amplified his voice to be heard across the entire castle grounds. She watched Harry’s eye harden as Voldemort accused him of allowing his friends to die in his stead, and then offered his ultimatum.

The final battle would begin in one hour, or Voldemort would level the castle brick by brick and kill everyone within.

“Go,” she urged. “Get back to Ron and the others. Get help. I’ll be along as soon as I can.”

Harry nodded, his eyes flicking down to his former professor. “Good luck,” he said finally. “You’re right. No one deserves to die like this. And I’ll make sure no one else ever does.”

Tears pricked Hermione’s eyes as the Boy Who Lived marched off, praying not for the first time that Harry was strong enough to live up to his legend just once more.

Returning her gaze back to Snape, she found him starring up at her, his dark eyes large in his pale face.

“You should go…with him. Sodding fools…can’t do anything…without you whispering in their ears.”

Hermione laughed as a few tears slipped down her cheeks, and she shook her head. “They know more than anyone gives them credit for. Even themselves.” Reaching for the tattered remains of her cloak, she returned her attention to his wound, which she’d managed to at least temporarily staunch. “Now then. We need to get you back to the castle. I have a feeling you’ll be needing an anti-venom potion in addition to the blood replenishing.”

“Stupid girl.” Even on the ground, only moments from his life’s blood seeping from his body, hardly able to string three words together, Severus Snape still managed to imbue his voice with more arrogance that Hermione thought any one person could possess. “Do you really think…I’m brainless enough…to spend my days so close…to that wretched reptile…and not carry a venom antidote…at all times?”

Hermione’s lips curled into a satisfied smile. “Forgive me for doubting you, Professor.” She reached immediately for his jacket. “Which pocket?”

************

Hermione didn’t see Severus for nearly a month after the Battle of Hogwarts concluded and Voldemort was finally killed. He spent a week in the hospital wing, recovering from not only Nagini’s bite but also the accumulation of internal wounds from the multiple Cruciatus curses he’d suffered. Once he was pronounced physically fit, he’d been formally charged by the Ministry and hauled off to Azkaban for questioning. Hermione was still fuzzy on all the details, and – in a rare moment of compassion for his former nemesis – Harry refused to tell her exactly what happened. Apparently Snape had produced absolutely mind-boggling memories, placed in a Pensieve for Harry and members of the Ministry to view, which unquestioningly cleared him of all charges.

Harry did admit that Hermione had been right to believe in him, and she took some satisfaction in that, though she wished she knew the whole story. But some secrets were meant to be kept, and she surely would never pry.

More than anything, she wished she could see for herself that he’d recovered from his ordeal, at least as well as anyone could have, but she’d practically managed to convince herself that he’d forgotten the part she’d played in his rescue – if he’d even been truly conscious enough to remember it in the first place – when a knock on her door one bitterly cold evening relieved her of any doubts.

He looked well, at least physically, and Hermione was pleased to see that his dreadful paleness had returned to its normal, merely pasty white complexion. She invited him in immediately, trying not to appear too happy at his presence, since for all she knew he was here to tell her off for interfering. That was certainly more likely than any praise of her healing abilities, or even a simple thank you.

Despite the fact that he’d come to see her, Snape appeared disinclined to speak, and took to pacing about her small living room. Hermione allowed him silence for a few moments, then hesitantly ventured, “You’re looking much better these days.”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “Considering the last time I saw you, Miss Granger, I was bleeding to death on the floor of a shack, I should hope so.”

Hermione grinned, glad his snark was at least still intact. “Is there something I can do for you, Professor?”

Snape looked slightly uncomfortable, which was not an emotion she normally associated with him, but he plunged forward as he always did, despite what he might be feeling.

“That evening, despite my better judgment and – if I recall – my express command not to, you saved my life.” His unblinking eyes bore into hers. “Such an action deserves…gratitude, despite whatever my preferences at the time might have been.”

Hermione inclined her head. “I won’t say I’m sorry for going against your wishes, sir, and you’re most welcome.” Her voice hardened slightly. “You didn’t deserve to die there, like that, whatever you might have thought.”

“Yes, well, I suppose we shall just have to agree to disagree on that point.” His lip twitched. “Unfortunately, gratitude is not all that is owed to you, Miss Granger. There is the matter of…the life debt.”

Hermione blinked stupidly for a moment, and then her brain caught up with his words. He was right. She had saved his life with no thought of reward or compensation, but a Wizarding life debt was binding, and ignoring it would do neither of them any good.

“This is not something I particularly enjoy acknowledging,” Snape continued, “and no doubt your Gryffindor sensibilities make it difficult for you to accept a so-called reward for an action which I’m sure you took with only the noblest of intentions.” Hermione rolled her eyes at his sneering tone, but she couldn’t exactly disagree. “I highly suggest you discharge it in as efficient and painless manner as possible. Then we can put the entire business behind us and get on with our lives.”

Hermione sighed. This was not at _all_ how she imagined the conversation turning, and as much as she hated to admit it, he was probably right. She truly didn’t want anything in return for saving his life, after all. Best to get it out of the way quickly and ask him for something frivolous.

And yet…If there was one thing Hermione hated above all else, it was a wasted opportunity.

Especially if that opportunity involved the procurement of knowledge.

It was unfair and inappropriate and a gross misuse of what should be a solemn debt. He’d hate her for it, and she’d probably end up hating herself.

But it was the only chance she’d ever have, and she simply couldn’t bring herself to pass it by.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione nodded. “Very well, Professor. I will consider the debt paid in full if you answer one question with complete and total honesty.”

He looked at her warily, but he had no choice but to nod in acceptance. “Ask your question.”

Hermione clenched her hands into fists, the slight pain of her nails digging into her skin giving her courage.

“That night in the Shrieking Shack, I saved you for several reasons. I meant it when I said no one should die like that, but I also did it because I _knew_ you were on our side, and I wanted to ensure you had a chance to tell your story.” She swallowed thickly. “And…beyond that…I did it because I didn’t want you to die without knowing…without having the chance to say…”

Severus stepped forward immediately, raising his hand, his voice almost frantic. “Miss Granger, do not___”

“…that I love you.” Hermione raised her eyes to his defiantly, and she heard him swallow thickly. “I have done for nearly a year. I know it’s wrong for a million different reasons, so don’t even try to list them, but it doesn’t matter.” She shook her head sadly. “I know I’m supposed to be a good girl and find someone my own age. Probably Ron, when you get right down to it. But I can’t. I want someone who is my match intellectually, who will actually listen when I talk about history and literature and the way magic works. Someone who will respect me for my knowledge, not tease me or, Merlin forbid, pity me for it.” She stepped forward, raising her hand and just barely touching his cheek. “I want _you_.”

Severus closed his eyes, as though in pain, but he didn’t step away. A moment later, his eyes fluttered back open, and very softly, each word sounding like it was being forced from his lips, he repeated, “Ask. Your. Question.”

Hermione’s fingers fluttered as light as butterfly wings against his skin.

“Do you return _any_ of my feelings?” she whispered. “Any at all?”

Silence filled the room.

Their eyes remained locked together, nearly unblinking, and Hermione couldn’t bring herself to remove her hand, even as she felt him tense beneath her touch. Nearly five minutes passed before he spoke, and Hermione’s heart skipped a beat as he reached up and gently took her hand in his.

“Like a typical Gryffindor, you spent more time concentrating on the emotions behind your question and not on the question itself.”

Hermione blinked. She’d prepared herself for many responses, but this was not even close to any of them. “I beg your pardon?”

“You made me promise to answer your question.” He released her hand, allowing it to fall back to her side. “You did _not_ make me promise to answer it in a specific period of time.”

_Damn and blast!_

Hermione blew out a breath. This was what came from making deals with Slytherins. And she thought she’d been so careful!

“This being the case, I shall acknowledge the receipt of your question and do, of course, promise to answer it.” His lip twitched in what might almost have been a smile. “At a time of _my_ choosing.”

Inclining his head, he wished her a good night and swept out her door into the dark night, leaving Hermione standing in the middle of her living room.

Initially depressed, she dropped onto her favorite chair, admonishing herself for not paying closer attention to her wording. She should know better than to make such a mistake by now!

But then, a few moments later, a slow smile crossed her lips.

She wasn’t the only one who’d slipped up that night.

Severus had been most insistent that she discharge the debt quickly, and she’d obliged him. And now _he_ was the one drawing it out, refusing to answer her question. If he’d had no feelings toward her, there was no earthly reason for him not to simply say so. The debt would be filled and she’d be left with a not insubstantial amount of embarrassment, not to mention a more than slightly wounded heart, but at least with the firm knowledge that she could safely put aside her childish crush.

But he’d not done so. Instead, he’d bought himself time. Time for what, she couldn’t exactly say, but time nonetheless, when a clean rejection would have meant no time at all.

Hermione leaned back in her chair happily, closing her eyes.

Sometimes silence was the loudest truth imaginable, and for right now, she was content with all the things he could not say.


End file.
